


Being Neighborly

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [97]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Flirting, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: Caroline's weekly laundry routine hits a snag. She just has to cross her fingers that her neighbor (and crush) will help. And manage not to mock her to death.





	

**Being Neighborly**

**(Prompt: kc+ "We live in the same building and you're locked out of your place in your underwear because you were doing laundry and forgot your key" AU. Rated T).**

Every Wednesday Caroline does laundry.

The building she lives in is situated close to the financial district, occupied by power suit wearing stockbroker types, with a few exceptions, so the laundry room was usually pretty quiet midweek. She could have it all to herself and didn't have to feel guilty about monopolizing the machines. Today she's got four of them loaded (lights, delicates, darks and knits), her basket of sheets and towels waiting for the next round, and is humming absently as she feeds the machines quarters.

She's a little bleary eyed on this particular Wednesday. Last night had been Bonnie's birthday and they'd celebrated with pitchers of margaritas and amused themselves by catcalling Enzo and his bandmates (like they were teenage girls at a Bieber concert) as they'd played a show. She's only one cup of coffee in, her brain sluggish and distracted. She doesn't see the puddle of water and detergent on the floor by washer number two, forgets to even look for it. She knows better, the machine's been leaking for weeks and Caroline's emailed the building manager _three_ times.

Caroline slips and lets out a shriek as she loses her balance, pitching forward as her legs slip out from under her. She goes down, hands scrabbling for purchase, but the smooth metal of the washing machines offers no handholds. She lands mostly on her side, slapping her hands down on the floor at the last moment, saving herself from a possible head injury. Her relief is short lived and turns to irritation as Caroline feels water soak into her leggings and t-shirt, the fabric quickly becoming sodden and clinging to her skin. "Stupid lazy freaking moron," she grumbles, teeth grinding together in her anger.

Her next email was going to be _a lot_ less polite.

She sits up and wipes water away from her bare arms grimacing at the bits of sand and dirt and assorted floor detritus she feels on her skin. Caroline doesn't even want to consider the last time the floor had been properly washed, the layers of grime, the germs soaking into her clothes. Considering the lack of urgency the building manager seemed to feel about the broken washing machine she'd bet it had been a while. Basic maintenance was obviously not a thing he was capable of handling.

She eyes it with distaste, wondering if the tiles are even _supposed_ to be grey.

Gross.

She stands and swipes her hand over the greyish streaks on her pink t-shirt irritably. Shakes her head when she only manages to make them worse, pulling the fabric away from her body. She's had the shirt since college and it's pretty much the comfiest thing she owns, worn in in all the best ways. She really doesn't want to drop it in the bottom of her dirty clothes hamper and let the dirt fester until next week.

The shirt's seen her through late night cram sessions and half a dozen breakups. It deserves better.

And she was in the _laundry_ room…

Caroline bites her lip and walks the few feet to the doorway, sticking her head out into the hallway and listening carefully. She counts to thirty and sees no one, doesn't hear any movement in the nearby apartments, no footsteps of anyone coming or going. She can just make out the elevator panel down the hall and it seems to be parked two floors down.

Could she risk it?

She hesitates for another few seconds before she decides screw it. Stepping carefully back towards the machines she lifts the lid on the one with her lights and strips her tee off, tossing it into the half full tub. She quickly wriggles out of her leggings and tosses them into the neighbouring batch of darks before reaching for one of her towels. She hurriedly wraps it around her body, tucking the edge in securely and listening carefully once more.

She blows out a relieved breath when everything remains quiet and crosses her fingers her luck will hold.

Caroline's only about halfway back to her apartment when she stops dead in the middle of the hallway and realizes what an _idiot_ she's been and resolves never to leave the comfort of her apartment before she's sufficiently caffeinated _ever_ again.

She doesn't have her keys.

She doesn't even remember putting them in her pocket when she'd left but she begins to pray to whatever deity might be listening, and willing to do her a solid, that she had and she's just forgetting about it now. Caroline whirls and speed walks back to the laundry room, throws open the lid and plunges her arm in, fishing around in the soapy water until she finds something that feels like her yoga pants.

The pockets are empty but that's okay. No need to panic just yet. She had more than one pair and they're unfortunately identical. Caroline curses the sale that had caused her to buy them even though they made her ass look amazing. It takes a few minutes to retrieve each one, her heart rate and breathing picking up speed as her anxiety heightens each time she searches a pocket and fails to find anything key shaped.

Finally, once she's done and her yoga pants lie in a sad soaking heap on top of a neighboring washing machine Caroline has to admit defeat. She is so screwed. She has no keys, no phone, and every article of actual clothing she has available to her is dripping wet.

Damn it.

She knows most of her neighbors will be at work. She could try Damon, the bartender who lived above her (he had stompy feet and she was too aware of his routine) but he was creepy and way too full of himself and would probably think she was trying to seduce him if she showed up in nothing but a towel. Katherine Pierce was an option too. Caroline wasn't exactly sure what Katherine did for a living but she seemed to keep odd hours. They weren't exactly friends but they'd exchanged small talk in the elevators fairly often. Katherine had once complimented Caroline's shoes and Caroline got the feeling that was about as warm and squishy as the other woman got. Problem was she lived four floors up and Caroline couldn't be sure she would be home.

That left… Klaus. And that could get awkward.

He lived just down the hall, right next door to her. She knew him well enough to ask for a favor had, in fact, borrowed a pair of pliers just last week. He was fond of his balcony at night, a habit Caroline shared. The view had been one of the reasons she'd signed her lease. They talked nearly every evening, sometimes for hours when she had no early commitments. She considered him a friend even though they rarely interacted in the daylight. She was certain he was home, had heard the mix of music he was fond of when he was in deep work mode (softer and more melodic than his 'this painting is not going the way I want it to and I am cranky' playlist) as she'd waited for her coffee to brew that morning. He'd taunt her, she was sure, but he'd be good natured about it. Less sleazy than Damon would be though she was sure she'd get a playful leer or two.

Charming was kind of Klaus' default mode from what Caroline had gathered.

The problem was that Caroline might have begun to wonder if she maybe wanted more than that. She'd even had a naughty dream or two recently that started with her showing up at Klaus' door. Not in _exactly_ the same way because she was usually wearing a trench coat, fuck me heels, (plus way cuter lingerie and perfect makeup), confident that her seduction attempt would succeed. It always did, her imaginary Klaus was thrilled when she dropped the coat and tugged her into his apartment with hands and mouth greedy to discover her bare skin. How was she supposed to ask him for help _now_ without thinking about _that_?

It was stupid but she felt like they knew each other pretty well through their late night conversations. What if he took one look at her and knew the paths her mind had been travelling? What if her subconscious had totally misread the situation, read more into his teasing and pet names and flirty tones than he'd ever meant her too? Maybe the accent just made it _sound_ like he was into her?

It was only 10 AM and her day had kinda already sucked. A 'you're a sweet girl, Caroline, but I'm just not that into you' speech would be the perfect capper to the awfulness.

But it's not like she has much of a choice, does she?

Cursing under her breath, mentally planning the incendiary email she'll be writing (and CC-ing to the company who owned the building) once she's safely clothed and back in her apartment – seriously if the building manager knew what was good for him he'd stay out of her way – Caroline shoves her yoga pants back into the washer, hauls the 'Wet Floor' sign out from behind the door (because it was only freaking polite) and stalks out of the laundry room once more. She keeps her chin up, shoulders back, tries to appear serene, like this is an everyday occurrence that she's not the least bit embarrassed about.

Fake it till you make it, she tells herself, steeling her nerves to knock on Klaus' door. She doesn't let herself hesitate, lifts her fist and raps firmly, shifting on her feet once she hears the clicking of the locks.

"Morning!" Caroline chirps, as Klaus throws the door open. His mouth falls open slightly, eyes widening in surprise as he takes her in. He's barefoot, wearing jeans that have seen better days and a t-shirt that might have been blue once but it's so speckled with paint she wouldn't bet on it. There are streaks of yellow and cream on his forearms and Caroline idly wonders if they would transfer to her skin if he were to touch her right now.

A thought she immediately shakes off because she was trying to play it cool and not make it obvious that she had serious interest in jumping his bones.

Klaus seems to be having trouble deciding what to say, lips moving but no words coming out. Caroline plows ahead, "So, I locked myself out of my place. Mind if I use your phone to call my friend Bonnie? She's got my spare set."

He steps back automatically, gesturing for her to come in.

Caroline breathes a sigh of relief because that had been surprisingly simple and pads into his apartment. She hears the door close and Klaus clears his throat. "You locked yourself out of your flat in a towel?" he questions incredulously.

Caroline winces. She'd known there'd be commentary. She keeps her tone light, her back to Klaus as she wanders over to the sliding glass door that leads to his balcony, "Not exactly. It's kind of a funny story. You know how that one washing machine is terrible?"

Klaus hums an agreement, and she feels him drawing closer. "Yeah, well someone didn't mop up after themselves. I tripped and my clothes got all wet and icky. I tossed them in the wash and planned to race back to my apartment but then I realized I was sans keys. Hence why I am here."

He ghosts a palm over her shoulder, "Are you alright?" he asks.

Ugh, did he have to be sweet? That wasn't going to make her little crush go away any quicker.

She turns and offers him a smile, "Fine, no injuries. Kind of regretting the decision to strip but here we are."

The look of concern on Klaus' face melts away, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips, "You really shouldn't," he assures her teasingly. "I'm certainly enjoying the results of that decision."

Caroline rolls her eyes, "Oh, here we go."

He laughs but instead of doing what she'd expected – mocking her mercilessly – he shifts back a step and nods towards the hallway. "Bathroom's the first door on the left. I'll grab you something to wear. I imagine it'll take your friend a bit to get here, yeah?"

Again, not the response she'd expected. "Yeah," Caroline agrees slowly, "I don't know if she'll be able to leave work right away."

"Then I'll make tea. Have you had breakfast? I do make a good omelette, I'm told."

It's her turn to blink at him in surprise. "You don't have to cook for me. Seriously, I know you were working. I won't turn down the clothes because I'm getting a little cold but I can just sit quietly and stay out of your hair, I promise."

Klaus' reply is pointed and his head tips to the side, "I doubt you're much good at quiet, love."

Okay, maybe that was accurate. Caroline's about to protest more but Klaus inclines his head in the direction of the bathroom once more. "It's no trouble, Caroline. Honestly. My work will keep. And I'd be delighted to see if you're as fascinating in the morning as you are in the evening. Few people are, you know."

That kind of sounded like a challenge. And Caroline had never been much good at resisting those. "Fine. You're on. But only if you let me repay the favor."

"Would you like me to knock on your door wearing nothing but my underpants and a towel? It's not a tactic I've ever used to woo a woman but if you insist…"

Caroline bites her lip to keep from smiling, "I wasn't aware I was being wooed."

There's no hesitation in Klaus' reply, his eyes remain steady and warm on hers. "Then I suppose I'll have to try harder."

She sucks in a shocked breath, knows she's probably gaping at him in a way that her pageant coach would have smacked her for. But screw ladylike decorum this was a big, and amazing, revelation. "I… guess you will," she manages to stammer.

Klaus grins and nods decisively, "I'll put some thought into it. Prepare yourself."

He retreats to his bedroom without another word and Caroline hears drawers opening and closing. She takes the moment of privacy to let out the giddy laugh that had been brewing, muffling it in the crook of her arm. It's been awhile since she's felt like this about a prospective romance, thrilled and anticipatory and practically gleeful. There were full on butterflies in her stomach and she was sure her face was flushed.

She's mostly composed by the time she sets off to the bathroom, her face smoothed back into a more neutral expression. Until she passes the door to Klaus' studio, sees the canvas that's resting on an easel in the middle of the room. She stops short and her jaw drops yet again. It's unmistakably _her_. Her face in profile, her curls bright and lit by the moon as they blow in the wind. She looks beautiful, luminous, and any doubts that might have lingered about Klaus intentions, thoughts that he might just been teasing a moment ago, are squashed.

Staring at the painting she's positive it's not the work of a man who _hadn't_ been flirting.

Caroline darts into the bathroom before Klaus can catch her staring stupidly at his work. She's gonna need another moment, time to make some plans.

Klaus might be planning on upping his game but there's no reason she can't attempt a little wooing of her own.


End file.
